


The Flatmate

by alcohen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, M/M, Out of Character, POV First Person, Personal Growth, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcohen/pseuds/alcohen
Summary: Our favourite characters grew up and started a new life. Harry doesn’t want to live on Grimmauld place, so he decides to rent a flat; ironically, the place he finds belongs to Draco Malfoy. In the beginning of the story both think that they are normal straight guys; they’re a bit homophobic and sexist, which will gradually change. The readers will follow them on a detailed journey of self-acceptance; they will find out how the former enemies first come to trust each other, then fall in love.Please leave a comment if you like the story :)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	1. A new life

“Congratulations! Che-e-e-e-ers!”

Embarrassed, I smiled and squinted as the fireworks exploded above my head. I’ve never been a fan of attention, even though today I’m not the only one celebrating. The party was organized by some of Ron’s friends to mark the end of our studies. Yes, that’s right – from now on we are officially Aurors! The dream has come true, I guess.

“Ron, Harry, I’m so happy for you!” Hermione finally made it through the crowd of our drunken classmates and hugged us, just like when we were eleven.

“C’mon, you didn’t even believe we could do it,” Ron teased her – he had endured a whole month of Hermione’s lectures on how he was lazy and disorganised. Obviously, it wasn’t true; it’s just that he and I were both so ready for the finals and could’ve not even opened our textbooks, but who on earth was able to explain such a thing to Hermione?

“That’s not true! I never doubted you,” replied Hermione, grinning happily.

“Let’s go somewhere,” I suggested in a low voice. “I guess there’s no other way to avoid a bender.”

“Harry, are you going to run off your own graduation party? I don’t think so,” Ron shook his head sceptically. “Besides, I have nothing to say against a bender.”

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, but gave up almost instantly. She of all people knew that it was useless to argue with Ron on this one.

I had no choice but to sigh resignedly: if Ron decided we were going to have fun, nothing could possibly stop him.

“By the way, Harry, what did you decide about the house?” asked Hermione. “You’ll definitely have to live there now.”

She looked at me, waiting for an answer. I winced: a year ago or so she forced me to rearrange things at Grimmauld place. We got rid of the elf heads, changed the wallpaper and the upholstery and so on, but to me the house remained one of the most unpleasant places on Earth. I felt better in the cupboard under the stairs, if you ask me. Hermione was driven by the thought that it was my only house, and that I would end up living there one day, but I was in no hurry. Sirius died six years ago, and I was constantly stumbling upon things that reminded me of him - not to mention the headquarters of the Order, where every single object used to belong to him.

“Not this year,” I replied.

“You will have to go there one day.”

“In the meantime, I’m going to rent a flat.”

Hermione gave me a reproachful look. She was convinced that I was acting childish, trying to avoid things. I was ready to compromise on many things, but not on the place where I was going to live.

“You’re going to rent a flat? In the wizarding world? Harry, you know this isn’t safe.”

“Come on. I hardly have any enemies left.”

“Hardly. You said that.”

“Tell me honestly, Hermione, are you upset because you put so much effort in that house, and I still don’t live there?” I asked, deciding to call the big guns. Ron chuckled and glanced at Hermione: she backed down immediately.

“Of course I’m not upset, Harry. Live where you please! But for Merlin’s sake, be careful.”

“I don’t know what you’re afraid of,” I shrugged.

“Harry!”

“Okay, okay. I’ll rent a place in a Muggle area.”

Ron opened his mouth to share his doubts concerning this decision, but Hermione was faster:

“Great! Just make sure to get the Flu network.”

“Deal.”

“That’s it, I’ve had enough of you two arguing!” exclaimed Ron. “I want to dance. Hermione?”

She smiled and put her hand in Ron’s. I went back to the table with the drinks and ran into Seamus, who’d studied in the Auror Office with us.

“So, where are you going to work?” he asked.

“I was offered a job at the investigation department,” I said. “What about you?”

“The Ministry? You sure were,” he smiled. “Me… Ah, I don’t know yet. Tonight I’m having fun!”

With these words he grabbed a girl nearby by the hand and disappeared in the dancing crowd with her. I was getting ready to spend the night alone, as a cute blond girl emerged by my side.

“Wanna dance?” she asked with no hint of shyness. I gave her a long glance.

“Why not.”

I left my drink on the table, put an arm around my new acquaintance and headed to the dancefloor. 

***

Ron was right: the party was a success. Even I – the guy who usually stays on the sidelines – had a lot of fun. We drank a lot, danced a lot and laughed a lot. However, in the morning my head felt like it was going to explode, and I had a hard time finding the hangover potion, but I couldn’t deny that it was a great graduation party. Despite my concerns, yesterday’s blondie didn’t ask for a way to contact me again. I felt incredibly lucky: usually girls tend to get their hopes high, and the fact that I’m a national hero doesn’t really help. But again, yesterday, everything was perfect: the music, the drinks, the cute girl by my side…

I only managed to collect myself in the evening. That’s when I realised: I had to move out of the dorm tomorrow, and still hadn’t found a new place to live. The mere image of Grimmauld place gave me a strong desire to sleep outside or to invite myself to Ron and Hermione’s, who were about to move in together. Surely, I had to show up on Grimmauld place, 12 - otherwise that old rascal Kreacher was absolutely capable of thinking I’m dead and inviting some purebloods to the house to take my place – but I was determined to waste no more than ten minutes there. I promised myself to find a quick solution to my housing problem and got in the shower.

The next day I let Ron talk me into going to the mall with him and Hermione, because “she wanted to buy some stuff”. I tried replying that if Hermione wanted to buy stuff, it was probably for their future flat, but Ron insisted:

“I don’t care if it’s a dress for her or shower curtains for our flat, Harry. I’m not doing this alone.”

After three hours of strolling through different stores I started to get Ron’s point. Clearly, Ron knew his girlfriend better than anyone else. Of course, Hermione had already bought a ton of useful stuff; Ron and I resembled pack-mules by now, but even I had to admit everything she had purchased was technically necessary.

“I had no idea that moving in together meant spending so much money,” I noted.

Hermione shrugged. “It’s easier to buy everything at once. I don’t want to come back here twice a week.”

Finally, the day came to an end, and we sat down for a drink in a nearby café.

“I’ve been offered a job at the law enforcement department and at the underage magic control department. I haven’t decided yet,” Hermione told us. “Harry, when do you start?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Aren’t you going to take a break?” asked Ron, surprised.

“I’m not really tired, the finals were easy,” I said. In reality, I had no idea what to do during the so-called “break”.

“You know better,” he glanced at me suspiciously. He probably got it, but, thankfully, said nothing, because otherwise Hermione would have bombarded me with psychological advice for hours. I do love Hermione, but sometimes she’s too helpful.

I stuck my head in a Muggle newspaper that I picked up in order to find a flat to rent, while Ron and Hermione went on discussing Ron’s future job. What do we have here… A house in the suburbs – no, that’s not what I want… A three bedroom – that’s too much… There. The ad that captured my attention was for an available room in a flat in the centre of London. Maybe a room wasn’t enough - but the flat was just a few miles away from the café, and I needed a place to stay as soon as possible. I decided I could always find something else later, but for now, a room would be fine. I said my goodbyes hastily, folded the paper and was on my way.

Soon I found myself in front of a long series of two-storey apartments, each with a separate porch. I found the one with the number 28 above it and knocked. I heard someone swear on the other side, and the voice sounded vaguely familiar. Finally the doorknob turned, and I found myself staring at the owner.

“Potter?” he asked in an irritated tone.


	2. Malfoy in the Muggle world?

“Mr Malfoy, you can start on Monday.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Yes! It happened! I finally got a public defender’s licence and, starting Monday, I work in the Ministry of magic. I wasn’t sure this was what I dreamt of as a kid, but I was overall happy with how things were going.

Of course, my life is different from what I imagined during my fifth or sixth year at Hogwarts, but I can’t say it’s worse. Quite on the contrary, I am in no position to complain: I am not in jail, not in exile, I’ve got a job. Still, there are some things about my position that are disturbing…

The first and most important inconvenience was the fact that I had to settle down in a Muggle neighbourhood. I would never have thought that I would one day learn a minimum of household charms and handle simple cooking and cleaning. Nevertheless, here I am.

“Pansy! Is this you? You’ve changed.”

She was in the elevator with me. She really has changed: got a haircut and looked nicer than before.

“Draco, hello,” she said and smiled awkwardly. “What’s new?”

“I got a job here. Do you work here as well?”

“Yes, since last year. In the border control department,” she obviously didn’t know what else to say. I get it; we haven’t been in contact since school, so we didn’t really have a lot to say to each other.

“I have to go. See you later,” I muttered as I went out of the elevator. I couldn’t stand imposing myself.

My thoughts wandered as I continued walking. I think one way or another I always imagined myself working in the Ministry, though maybe in a higher position. As father used to say: this is just a matter of time.

 _No._ I am not going to think of my father right now. Not on a good day like today.

As soon as I left the Ministry, I took off my robe and put it in my briefcase. I only put it on to give myself a more formal look – normally Ministry employees leave their robes in their office. That’s what I’m going to from Monday on.

Assistant public defender – that’s my new title. Well, I guess it will suit me well enough.

I took my time to walk home. Over the last six months I had gotten used to this apartment, even though it was in the heart of Muggle London. Living next to Muggles has not proven itself contagious, contrary to my grandparents’ beliefs. I also found out one could use magic as usual on the condition of not forgetting to lock the door, charm the windows, and avoid getting friendly with the neighbours. These simple rules were a direct result of mistakes I made during my first week here - I even had to correct the memories of several a tad too nosy people.

I slammed the heavy door behind me, slipped out of my shoes. With a relieved sigh, I headed to the living room, where I had a fireplace.

Mum asked to let her know if the job interview went well. I could have “forgotten” it, but I knew she would never disturb me herself. I sighed again as I realised that talking to her is my duty. Especially considering what’s been going on in the manor lately.

I keep the Floo powder in the cupboard - another one of the consequences of living among Muggles. Last time a neighbour came in – she was out of salt – and asked me what it was. Of course, I got away with it. I guess I told her it was powdered quartz. But then I had to come up with an explanation of why I needed powdered quartz… If it wasn’t for my skill of winning people over when necessary, she and her incessant questions might have stuck around all afternoon. Since that day I lock everything up. Just in case.

The flames flickered and showed Mum’s tired face. Merlin, I still cannot help but feel guilty each time I see her, although she wasn’t mad at me in the first place.

“Everything went fine, they hired me,” I said in an overly cheerful voice.

“Really? This is wonderful!” Narcissa seemed genuinely happy and her contagious smile caused me to grin in reply. “Everything’s calm over here. It’s been a week since we had a rough night.”

Mum smiled funnily. I wonder: how does she find this will power in herself? That’s father she is talking of. “We”. As though he was a child, unable to control himself. But kids are never this combative…

“Great! I hope you get enough rest,” I answered.

“Sure, dear. What else am I supposed to do?” Mum laughed, but it made me feel like crying.

We talked for a bit longer. I told her that I’d run into Pansy, and then Mum went back to her errands. That’s how she calls Dad now – he can’t be left on his own.

The memory of the month when father returned after two years of Azkaban filled me with horror. I used to think that aunt Bella had always been crazy, but after observing Lucius I’m not so sure any more.

At first, we didn’t notice anything: we were just happy he was back, but then it started. He would ramble, unprompted: The Dark Lord was a genius, Fudge was a brilliant politician, Dumbledore was an old idiot, appointed as headmaster of Hogwarts due to a terrible misunderstanding. Mum and I kept quiet, thinking that he would calm down if we let him get it all out, but things only became worse. He started demanding that we join him in the admiration of the Dark Lord’s ideas. Then, one day, I snapped: said what I really thought and told Dad that his ideas were outdated. Neither me nor Mum will ever forget the scene he caused. He had threatened me with everything from disowning to Avada, while poor Narcissa sat there paper-white. She later confessed that she had been afraid Lucius would really kill me. Maybe I would’ve been scared as well if I hadn’t been so damn angry.

Arguments then became inevitable at least twice a day: during breakfast and supper, the two meals father never missed and forced me to attend. Of course, I’m not one of those who stand by the truth at all costs, but even I couldn’t take this any longer. That’s when Mum decided that it would be better for me to live elsewhere.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I insisted. “I’m a Malfoy, and I’m going to live in the manor.”

“Draco, dear, I hope you don’t think that I’m evicting you,” Mum spoke in such a tender tone that disagreeing with her felt almost like being rude. “But you have seen yourself what Azkaban has done to Lucius. He will never let you be.”

“I can’t leave you alone with him. He’s… crazy.”

I stumbled on the last word, but it was the truth. The bitter, horrible truth.

“Don’t worry. I’ve known him for many years, I’ll manage. But you need to move on.”

“Mum, I’m not leaving.”

Narcissa went quiet for a while. Then she added:

“Your father has decided enough for you. You have the right to live your life now.”

I gazed at her, astonished. Never has she said before that Lucius’s made mistakes.

“There’s a flat… but it’s in a Muggle neighbourhood. I’m afraid Lucius will not allow to take money in order to buy you a new place, so you will have to live there for a while.”

“I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are. That apartment belongs to me. I will show you the place and change the protection charms, so that Lucius won’t be able to find you there.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why are you doing this?”

“I want my son to be happy,” she replied simply and got up.

I nodded, and she left me sitting on my bed, trying to wrap my brain around what had just happened. Things I’ve always considered inviolable shattered to pieces because of my father’s insanity. The same evening, Narcissa took me to Eaton Mews South. I took almost nothing with me – I guess I was hoping I’d come back soon. However, after two weeks of independent life I was not that eager to return to the manor. And now, six months later, there was no way I’d accept to live in the manor again.

The only disadvantage of the situation was that I felt lonely. After Hogwarts, I had parted ways with my old friends, and hadn’t yet made any new ones. About a month ago I began thinking of renting a part of the flat, but no wizard would accept living in a Muggle place. So I decided a Muggle flatmate would do fine. I’ve been enough around Muggles these few months and was no longer scared of them, and I was pretty sure all the magic could be hidden quite easily. Okay, maybe I will have to be a bit more careful.

I must have completely lost my mind due to solitude if I got this crazy idea in the first place. I placed an ad in a newspaper saying that I was renting a room. I only had two visitors during the week: a bossy lady and some forty year old man. As I was searching for company rather than money, so I didn’t accept either one. 

A week was enough to realise all the stupidity of the idea. I could have given the ad one more week, but I decided to cut the crap and ask an old friend to live here, hoping that someone would be wanting to deal with me.

I finally got up from the rug in front of the fireplace and headed to the kitchen in order to make some coffee - the one remaining joy in my life.

As I was pouring the hot drink in a cup, someone knocked loudly on the door. I jumped in surprise, spilling some on the table. I tried to reach for a rag, but the coffee pot slipped out of my hand and burnt my finger. I swore loudly, dropped everything, and went to open the door. If that’s that neighbour again, I decided I would say that I have no more salt: I’m on a new Japanese diet. And I will definitely not explain the details.

But I was in for a surprise. Standing on my porch, more mature than in my memories but still quite recognizable, was Harry Potter. I was so stunned I forgot to take my burnt finger out of my mouth.

“Potter?”


	3. Adjustments

“Malfoy?”

Potter looked as surprised as I was. He even stepped back, almost slipping on the stairs. My mind was racing a million miles an hour, jumping instantly to a handful of worst case scenarios. What on earth does he want from me? Did he come here to get back at me for some school grudge?

“What are you doing here?” I asked, not even trying to sound polite.

“I could ask you the same question,” he snapped back.

“What I am doing here is none of your business,” I retorted. “So what do you want?”

We glared at each other for several seconds. Then Potter checked the plate above the door and asked:

“Is this Eaton Mews South, 28?”

“Yes,” I didn’t appreciate the official tone. Did he come here as an Auror? The last thing I needed was a problem with the Auror office. They must have found out that I’d erased some of the neighbours’ memories… I had already come up with at least five excuses when Potter said:

“Well, I actually answered an ad, but I guess it must be some sort of mistake.”

Answered an ad? _Merlin_ … I sighed in relief and chuckled nervously. Was that all? I was just imagining things.

Meahwhile, Potter was beginning to look as if he had changed his mind about renting a room.

“I…” he stuttered.

“Chickened out, Potter?” I enquired snarkily. For some reason, I wanted this interaction to last a little longer. Arguments with Potter reminded me of carefree times, which was strangely soothing.

“Chickened out? Have you ever met me, Malfoy?”

He looked genuinely revolted. He was always easy to manipulate.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll kill you. I am a former Death Eater,” I smirked and noted to myself that he really hadn’t changed a lot, at least as far as I was concerned.

And then it struck me: I wanted a flatmate, didn’t I? Potter could be a decent choice. First of all, he’s a wizard, so I wouldn’t have to hide a simple Lumos, and I could continue using the Floo network as usual. Secondly, after our time at school, I knew him as the back of my hand. The prospect of making fun of him as in the good old days was honestly pretty tempting. The hatred was long gone, and now I only felt a bit annoyed when I looked at Potter. But the most important thing was that I doubted I could find another wizard willing to live here. So I decided to seize the opportunity.

“But you are not mistaken. I am renting a room.”

“The family wealth doesn’t cover your needs any more?” he said sarcastically.

“You did chicken out,” I returned the provocation.

“No I didn’t. Show me the room.”

I shrugged and stepped back, letting Potter enter the flat. He hesitated for a brief moment, but gathered himself almost instantly and asked:

“Where exactly is it?”

“Upstairs, first door on your right.”

Potter ran up the stairs and pushed the door. I, however, started to doubt the sanity of the idea. Why the hell do I need Potter here? I’d better invite Theo or Greg. They would agree to keep me company for some time. Nothing exotic like Potter who can be unpredictable.

I shook my head. There’s no reason to lie to myself: my school friends were part of my past, as well as the careless years when my main preoccupation was the fact that Potter had a better broom and that Granger’s grades were higher.

Potter seemed determined. He didn’t even enter the room: only glanced at it, standing in the doorway.

“What are your terms, Malfoy?”

“Thirty galleons a month.”

I decided to test him and deliberately gave a price higher than the real one, but Potter nodded. I wanted to make sure he won’t forget who’s the boss here. I didn’t care if he’s a national hero – if he’s going to live here, he’ll just be a tenant.

“We’re in a Muggle area, so don’t use magic too often, and if you do, don’t forget to make sure nobody can see or hear you. No girls, no Weasley and Granger – I reckon that goes without saying.”

I was half convinced that my large amount of conditions wouldn’t do for Potter and that he’d start arguing, but, to my surprise , none of that happened.

“Deal,” he said.

“Payment in advance,” I said, making a last attempt to get rid of him.

“Fine,” he shrugged indifferently and pulled out his wallet. He counted out thirty golden coins and piled them up on the decorative table in the hallway. “I’ll move in in an hour.”

Suddenly, the reality of what was happening caught up with me. I was definitely not ready for this. In an hour? He has no place to live or what? Well, otherwise he wouldn’t be searching for a room… But I didn’t let my surprise show.

“And don’t leave your stuff all over the place,” I added as we went down the stairs.

Potter nodded absentmindedly and stepped out the front door.

“By the way, Malfoy,” he said suddenly, “why do you live in a Muggle area?”

“Forgot this one: mind your own business,” I snapped.

“Whatever,” and he strode off without even looking back at me.

I was wrong: he had changed.

***

“And these are all the belongings of the national hero?” I drawled, looking at Potter who showed up with just a backpack of clothes. I was sitting on the sofa in the living room, reading the _Prophet_. Potter arrived in an hour, as promised.

“I think posturing is your speciality,” he replied, squinting.

“Potter thinks? Oh my… Well, maybe you do, compared to Weasley…”

I started enjoying Potter’s presence. The self-assured boy I used to be came to the surface, and I started speaking just as I used to in Hogwarts. To be honest, it was easier this way: as soon as I put on the old mask, everything went back to normal.

“Don’t start, Malfoy,” Potter said in a warning tone. “Don’t joke with Auror training.”

“Or with a public defender. I’ll get your ass in court in one minute for violence,” I responded. There’s no way I’ll let him threaten me.

Potter dropped his pack on the floor and sat in the armchair in front of the sofa.

“So you’re a public defender now? I would never have thought…”

“Potter? Not thinking? See now _that_ makes sense,” I couldn’t help myself but continue to nag him.

“Malfoy!”

“Besides, you haven’t been five minutes here and already managed to break two rules,” I decided to change the subject. Potter stared at me, confused.

“First: don’t leave your stuff all over the place,” I eyed the pack of the floor, “second: mind your own business.”

“You were the one who started boasting.”

“It’s my house, I’ll boast if I want to.”

“It’s my pack, I’ll throw it around if I want to,” suggested Potter, casually swaying it in my direction. Okay, I figure I pissed him off. I’d tell him to leave, but he’d already payed for the first month, and I would look stupid giving him the money back. So I just stood up, snorted dismissively, and headed to the kitchen to make some more coffee.

And if I managed to control myself that evening, the next day – Sunday – we ended up having a real fight. It started off with me saying something deprecating of Potter’s sacred friends. I didn’t even notice that I’d crossed the line until I ended up with Potter’s wand within an inch of my nose.

“I will not let you insult my friends in my presence.”

“Lower your wand first, Potter,” he did it.

“Now get out of my house,” I hissed.

“I’m not going anywhere. You’ll have to deal with me for at least a month,” he replied angrily.

“I’ll give you back your money.”

“Malfoy, what do I care about thirty galleons! You should’ve thought it through.”

I remained silent, grinding my teeth. I wasn’t fifteen anymore. Potter can’t treat me this way.

“I don’t care. Get the hell out of here.”

He rubbed his nose under his glasses wearily, sighed and said in a conciliatory tone:

“Malfoy, here’s the deal: I comply to all your idiotic rules, and you don’t insult my friends. It’s not that difficult. Don’t act childish, will you?”

We agreed. Well, agreed is a strong word. In reality we just went to our rooms and avoided each other until next morning.

I have already cursed myself multiple times for placing the ad. Got fed up with solitude, huh! Now I’ll have to tolerate Potter whom for some reason I still haven’t kicked out… Well, I did know the reason, but now the whole thing seemed foolish: his presence offered almost no advantages but will get on my nerves. However, Potter wasn’t about to leave. Does he really have no place to live? Anyway, that’s none of my business.

As much as I hated to admit it, Potter’s words about acting childish had hit the target. I decided I’d not lower myself to that level any more. My Slytherin nature quickly found a way out: our deal said nothing about insulting Potter. Yes, it’ll definitely be fun having him here.


	4. Work in the Ministry

The high-pitched noise of the alarm clock forced me out of my sleep, and I found myself in a completely unfamiliar place. A double bed, a bedside table with a lamp on it, grey curtains… My sleepy brain tried to remember how I had ended up here. I reached out for my glasses and sat up. Shit… Malfoy.

To say I was surprised to see Malfoy on that doorstep would have been an understatement. I couldn’t figure out why the hell I was staring at that once-hated face. The only bright thing about the situation was that the former Slytherin didn’t look too happy either. He spent some time trying to find out what I wanted from him. What could I possibly want from him?! Oh yeah – a room.

Had I had more time, I would have looked for another place, but I didn’t seem to have a choice. So I agreed to all the stupid conditions that obviously satisfied Malfoy’s ego, and then went to Grimmauld place real quick to give Kreacher the necessary orders and pack some clothes. Obviously, I wouldn’t be staying at Malfoy’s very long, so I only grabbed a few sets of clothes and hygiene items. I could always pass by the Black’s house if I needed more.

I came back to Eaton Mews and regretted my compliancy almost at once. Turns out, Malfoy hadn’t grown up a bit: he kept saying nonsense and tried to piss me off, as if we were still at school. Fortunately, three years in the Auror office had toughened me up, and pissing me off wasn’t as easy as it used to be.

At least, that’s what I thought until Sunday.

It’s kind of phenomenal how the bastard always finds a way to get it out of me. In the last years, I had dealt with many people who were far from agreeable, and I never had to pull my wand – words were always enough. I guess the remains of childhood hatred must have made it to the surface.

A Monday morning wasn’t an appropriate time to dwell on the situation, especially because today was my first day at work. So I pushed away my thoughts on yesterday’s incident in the kitchen that almost led to a duel, stood up, put my pants on and dragged myself to the bathroom which next to my room.

Confused, I tugged on the handle of the closed door. Locked? Why? I must admit, I was truly surprised to hear Malfoy’s voice from the other side:

“Calm down, Potter. Can’t you see it’s already occupied?” he said.

Ah, crap, there’s only one bathroom here.

“Be quick. I need to get to work,” I muttered.

“Me too,” he replied, unfazed.

I rolled my eyes and leaned on the opposite wall, waiting for the possibility to wash up. About five minutes later the door opened, and Malfoy came out of the bathroom, looking a bit too chipper.

“Did you get your hair done?” I asked mockingly.

“I did, and so should you,” Malfoy smirked, without missing a beat.

Several minutes later I had already brushed my teeth and come downstairs, hoping to find something to eat. Quite predictably, Malfoy was already in the kitchen making coffee. I made my way past him to the fridge and opened it.

“Nothing is yours in there,” Malfoy noted.

“I guess you’ll have to share.” I took out a bottle of milk and was about to take a sip when Malfoy – without even looking at me! – said:

“Use a glass.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“People drink milk from a glass, not from the bottle,” he explained, turning to look at me with an expression on his face that clearly meant I was stupid. I sighed, but decided not to argue.

“And where do you keep your glasses?”

“In the cupboard above the sink.”

We ate our breakfast in stony silence. Neither of us had forgotten yesterday’s fight, so it was still too awkward to speak. I think that if I’d had another option – Ron and Hermione’s place doesn’t count, of course, I didn’t want to be a third wheel – I would have left yesterday. But as it was too late to look for another place, I thought I could make a compromise and stay. Merlin almighty, I decided to make a compromise with Malfoy! Surprisingly, Malfoy accepted my terms. It has been twenty minutes since he went out of the bathroom, and he still hasn’t said anything diminishing.

The clock showed a quarter to eight. I had to be at the Ministry at half past eight. How was I going to get there?

“Malfoy,” I said after thinking a bit, “does your fireplace work?”

“It does, but you have to go out to get to work.”

“Why?”

“It’s a Muggle neighbourhood,” he reminded, but I still didn’t understand, so he added: “We only use magic if necessary. Besides, if we never leave the house, it’ll be suspicious. And the neighbours here are nosy, believe me.”

“Okay,” I dragged out. “So we have to find a place to Apparate from?”

Malfoy didn’t honor me with an answer.

Fifteen minutes later Malfoy and I, fully dressed and ready to go to work, went out on the porch.

“Potter, your key,” Malfoy pointed at the small round table just inside the apartment’s open door. I looked around and grabbed the key I had almost forgotten.

“Close the door,” my new flatmate added as he ran down the stairs and strode away without even checking if I would actually lock up. I was already running late, so I swore to myself as the key refused to turn in the lock. I finally succeeded, dropped the key in my pocket and went to search for a place where I could Apparate unnoticed.

***

“We’ve got a case, Harry. Let’s go,” Mr. Harper, my boss, said as he got up and put his ministry robes on.

Mr. Harper used to teach at the Auror office during my third year of studies, and we got along pretty well. So when the time came for me to look for a job, he offered to hire me as his assistant, the position being conveniently vacant.

I put my robes around my shoulders and rushed through the corridor and down the stairs of the investigation department, trying to catch up with Harper’s quick pace.

“Any details?” I asked.

“An ordinary petty theft. Welcome to the routine.”

In about ten minutes we were already standing near one of the cafés in Diagon Alley, listening to the lady who had reported the theft. She was confused and a little scared; I understood from her fragmentary story that someone had stolen her bag while she was drinking her tea at Fortescue’s.

“Go ahead, Mr. Potter. This case is perfect for beginners,” Mr. Harper patted me on the shoulder with a fatherly look.

If someone had asked me several years ago how to find a stolen purse, I would have suggested buying a new one, but now I knew that the chances of catching the thief weren’t completely inexistent. I questioned the lady about the contents of her bag. She mentioned a couple of galleons, lipstick, tissues and other stuff people usually have in their bag, and – fortunately for me – a Sneakoscope. Any Sneakoscope would vibrate and glow if the bag it was in was getting stolen, reacting to the presence of the thief. But a decently manufactured one would continue to glow and vibrate even when the owner wasn’t near anymore, if the person had had it long enough. According to the lady, it’s been several years since she first put the device in her purse and she never took it out.

I left the lady to Harper and strode away through the crowd, and as luck would have it, barely three streets away from Fortescue’s café, I spotted him: a clumsy-looking, skinny guy was trying to find something in a trembling bag. I approached, clutching my wand in the pocket of my robes.

“Auror Potter. Could you please introduce yourself, mister…?” I demanded in an official tone. The young man flinched and tried to run away, but he didn’t go far – I was prepared for this and shot him with Incarcerous. Ropes swung out of my wand and tied the guy’s hands and feet together. He stumbled and fell face forward – I barely had the time to do a cushioning charm so that his nose could remain intact.

After the formalities had been honoured, the lady left with her retrieved purse. I almost felt sorry for the unskilled thief: he was definitely not used to stealing things. But I still wasn’t going to let him go: the lack of experience was no excuse.

Harper and I left the guy in the isolator for further investigation and went back to our office on the second floor.

“Prepare the evidence for the trial,” Mr. Harper said, “And I’ll go and give a copy of the file to the public defender. He too has a young assistant who needs to start somewhere.”

“I’m on it,” I nodded readily. Harper paused by the door and added, “By the way, Harry, it’s been some time now since I’ve started working with this public defender, Mr. Green. I’d appreciate it if you tried to find common ground with his assistant.”

“No problem,” I replied. Harper gave me a weird look and was off before I had the time to figure out what it meant. I frowned, but decided not to give it too much thought: I had to write a detailed report on the case of Alan Mann, our freshly arrested thief.

The day went by calmly. Harper continued periodically sending me weird looks – I still couldn’t understand why. At six o’clock I finished work, went out of the Ministry and headed towards Eaton Mews. I didn’t want to call it home, but it was surely more cosy than the house on Grimmauld place. Just the sight of Malfoy in his stretched out pants this morning was worth it – I chuckled at the memory. I couldn’t have imagined that the usually neat Malfoy actually owned such clothes.

It was hardly a half an hour walk to Eaton Mews, but it took me an hour, the reality of living with Malfoy still being somewhat uncomfortable.

I opened the heavy door. Malfoy was in the living room, lying on the sofa with a book called _Ordinary Crimes with Peculiar Endings._

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” he replied automatically. I loosened my tie and sat down in the armchair, stretching my legs. First, Malfoy didn’t react to my presence, but after about two minutes let out an irritated sigh.

“How long are you going to sit here?” he asked, without looking at me.

“I don’t know. I’m here for now,” I snapped back.

“I should have asked for forty galleons. It feels like I rented out the whole place,” Malfoy muttered.

“Get used to it.”

The book in Malfoy’s hands bugged me. I had the impression that I had missed something important.

“Reading about crimes, Malfoy?” I asked. Who knows, maybe he’d answer?

“No, I’m covering up from the sun,” he replied sarcastically. “Merlin, Potter! I’m a public defender, remember? I have to go through the basics from time to time.”

Suddenly it clicked and I understood the looks Harper had been giving me all day.

“You are an assistant public defender,” I corrected him. “Let me guess: Mr. Green’s assistant?”

“What do you care? By the way, you forgot about the rule again…”

I couldn’t help laughing. The outlook was brilliant: we will have to work together, as if living under one roof wasn’t enough of a challenge! Harper did always have a sense of humour.

“What are you laughing at?” hissed Malfoy.

“Did you get Alan Mann’s case? Don’t answer: I know you did. Malfoy, this is fate. We will definitely have to learn how to tolerate each other.”

For a brief second Malfoy looked at me with such undisguised astonishment that I almost felt bad for him.

“ _Merlin_ ,” he sighed, finally. “Can’t _wait_ to see you at work.”

“I bet. Well, in this case I’ll go to my room. I’ll have all day tomorrow to contemplate your face.”

“Be my guest,” he muttered to my back.

I ignored the sarcastic tone and ran up the stairs. It looked like tomorrow wouldn't just be a boring day of paperwork after all.


	5. Enemy territory

It seemed like Potter had really grown up. After the remarkable fight on Sunday he wasn’t responding to any provocations. Instead, he kept waving them away with a joke. Seeing him this way made me feel a little guilty for my earlier childishness. At least, that’s how I felt Monday morning: a child compared to the condescendingly smiling Potter.

And if he didn’t grasp it at once, I did: both of us were working in the Ministry, so we would end up walking to work the same way. Of course, he would eventually find out that walking is easier than looking for a place to Apparate in the middle of London, but I had no intention of making his thought process faster – I’ve had enough of him at home. And why in the world did he come into the kitchen and eat breakfast with me? Is he trying to cozy up and be friendly or something?

Anyhow, trying to figure out Potter’s motives was a thankless task. Besides, as long as he complies to my rules, I won’t be complaining.

My first day at work went well. Before noon I was doing Mr. Green’s paperwork – an integral part of the court. At about 3 pm, an Auror came by and left us a new case – a theft. Generally speaking, the thief was screwed: the Aurors caught him red-handed. But it was my job as a public defender to see if I could find any mitigating circumstances, so I spent to rest of the day working on Alan Mann’s case.

Home was soothing in Potter’s absence. I drank a cup of coffee, picked up the book on ordinary crimes that I once found very useful and settled down on the couch. That was when Potter arrived with the “wonderful” news. Technically, first he just arrived and annoyed me with his chattiness, and only then announced that “we will have to learn how to tolerate each other”. Thankfully, after this revelation he went upstairs and left me alone.

I had to admit that Potter had a point. But, personally speaking, I had no urge whatsoever to spend my energy on getting along with him.

The next morning, when I entered the kitchen, I was surprised to see that Potter had already washed up and standing by the stove, frying something.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Making eggs and bacon. I don’t know about you, but I can’t get through the morning with only a glass of milk,” he answered without turning around. “Did you sleep well? Or is that none of my business?”

“It is,” I grunted and sat down on a chair, waiting for him to finish – I wanted to make some coffee.

“I wasn’t really expecting an answer,” chuckled Potter. In a swift movement that made me think that he was used to cooking he put the eggs and the bacon on a plate and sat down in front of me. He looked amusing: even more dishevelled than usual, with red marks of the pillow all over his cheek. He began to eat, paying zero attention to my interested gaze. The smell of freshly fried eggs went up my nostrils; if it was Theo or Greg, I would have demanded a bite by now, but there was no way I’d ask Potter to share. So I had no choice but to get up and take care of myself.

Breakfast was over, and I was about to leave, when I heard Potter yell:

“Malfoy, have you seen my watch?”

I sighed and went back to the living room, where I saw Potter running around in ironed pants (he knows how to iron?) and an unbuttoned shirt.

“I told you to not leave your stuff…” I started in an instructive tone, but he cut me off.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Come on, Malfoy, will you help?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Maybe in the kitchen?”

“I already looked there…”

I headed to the kitchen, ignoring Potter’s protest. There was simply no other place his goddamn watch could be. And I was right: there it was, waiting for him on top of the flat’s small, 4 foot fridge.

“Potter, come here!” I yelled.

“You found it?” he asked incredulously as he entered the kitchen.

“Wipe your glasses in the morning,” I said and pointed at the watch.

Potter shook his head in disbelief, then took the watch and answered, “Well, better you get the venom out of your system now than at work.”

“Damn. I’ve already forgotten that we’re working together today.”

“It doesn’t have to be all day,” Potter replied, buttoning his shirt. “We can agree on a strategy for Mann’s hearing much faster than that.”

“Are you hoping I am going to accept your point of view?” I asked sarcastically.

“No, but I am not letting you discharge him either. Are you coming?”

“I forgot something upstairs,” I lied, unenthused by the idea of walking to the Ministry in Potter’s company.

“I’m off then,” Potter gave me a knowing look, but didn’t comment on my excuse.

I watched him leave, thinking that Potter seemed far too calm. He didn’t actually enjoy my presence, did he?

***

I was on the “enemy territory” – at least, that’s how Mr. Green jokingly called the investigation department. The office was small, with only two desks and a great amount of stuff lying around: books, parchments, two maps of London - a Muggle one and one of the wizarding city. Mr. Green and I came here this morning, so that Potter and I could discuss the strategy for the hearing. Potter’s desk was as much of a mess as the rest of the place, which made me uncomfortable. Mr. Green, however, didn’t seem surprised or bothered: he sat down in front of Potter’s boss, with whom he had some other business to sort out.

It was important to me to stay formal with Potter, at least when Mr. Green was around, so as soon as we entered the office, I greeted him with a “Good morning, Mr. Potter”. I could see his lip curl in amusement, but he accepted the rules. It has been some time now since we started the discussion.

“Mr. Potter, unfortunately, I can’t agree with your terms.”

“Mr. Malfoy,” he countered with an ironic smile, “you are asking for too much. Do not forget that your client was caught in the act.”

“He had a good reason to steal,” I retorted.

“Everybody has reasons, but not everybody uses them,” he replied.

From where I was sitting I could hear some bits of Mr. Green’s conversation with Mr. Harper. These middle-aged arses were betting. And on what, one might wonder?! On me and Potter! Who will give in first! Wow, when I was passing the job interview, I would have never thought that Mr. Green is capable of such a thing. This must be the influence of chatting with an Auror on a regular basis. I was pretty sure that Potter’s boss had graduated from Gryffindor – otherwise, why on earth would a grown man find this amusing?

Finally, Mr. Green and Mr. Harper stood up.

“We’ll be back in a bit – we have to go through an old case in the archive,” Mr. Green explained, and they left.

“Okay, Malfoy, can we please decide something,” Potter jumped on the opportunity to drop formalities. “You can practise your phrase-mongering in court.”

“I’ll stand by probation,” I replied readily. To be honest, after two hours of back and forth I felt nothing but a new-found respect for Potter’s calm and professional arguments. Perhaps, working with him wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“We have to give him at least a month,” Potter frowned. “So that he doesn’t repeat it.”

“Potter, you don’t know his situation…” I started.

“And I am sure, it is awful.” He smiled and leaned back on his chair, looking at me with interest. “He isn’t a robber, if you ask me – if you know what I mean.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for over an hour and a half,” I would have been annoyed, if I wasn’t so tired of the bickering.

“But you still ask for too soft measures.”

“That’s my job.”

Potter nodded.

“Well then, shall we leave it to the judge?” he said.

“So you finally understand how the system works,” I replied sarcastically.

The door creaked, and both of us put a neutral face on, but it was just some girl.

“Hello,” she smiled at Potter. “Mr. Potter, I work in the archive. I came by to tell you that you should submit copies of your reports to me or my colleague.”

“Of course,” he replied. The girl smiled again and gave him a flirty look.

“Nice to meet you,” she added.

“Nice to meet you too, miss…?”

“Melissa.”

“Melissa,” Potter repeated and smiled widely. Not a hint of the irony I always get.

Melissa lit up, twittered something about being happy to help if necessary and disappeared behind the door. It hasn’t escaped my notice that Potter’s eyes casually slipped down her figure.

“Do you like her, Potter?” I snorted.

“Why, isn’t she pretty?” he answered, unfazed.

“She is,” I agreed.

“And she likes me. I hope you’re not jealous,” he said complacently.

I shrugged.

“Only complete idiots don’t like the loaded national hero. But when it comes to an ordinary public defender…”

“Modest, you might as well say,” Potter added with a laugh.

“Modest, of course,” I nodded. “If a girl likes a modest public defender, then it’s definitely about him, not the corpse of the Dark Lord.”

Potter chuckled.

“It’s no use talking to you,” he snapped, but I could tell he wasn’t really annoyed.

After work, I decided to have a pint in one of my favourite bars. It seemed like Potter’s got himself a girl – or at least it was definitely going to happen soon – which reminded me that I hadn’t had sex in quite a long time, what with all the finals and the job interviews. Fortunately, I was always attractive enough to find a girl to dance with for the evening, and often more than dance, if I got lucky. I’d been doing so for the last couple of years and was never disappointed. The same happened tonight – I spotted a pretty brunette, and within several hours I was already at her place. While pulling off her dress, I thought to myself that I was pretty damn lucky to be attractive.


	6. The snow is melting

“I was here first.”

“No you weren’t.”

“The flat’s mine, so is the bathroom,” Malfoy declared in the most arrogant way possible.

We were standing in front of the bathroom, arguing about who should go first. And even though I was there a step before Malfoy, he wasn’t ready to back off.

“Well, you could try and kick me out,” I interjected, diving under Malfoy’s arm as he tried to block the way, and managed to get inside. The bathroom was nice: a new shiny sink, yellow tile. It would have been perfect to have two, though. Meanwhile, Malfoy entered the bathroom as well – I could tell he was dissatisfied and perplexed at the same time.

“You’re getting more and more impudent,” he grunted, when I turned the tap on and started washing my face. I turned to look at him: he stood in the doorway, rubbing his neck.

“I don’t think so. Anyway, is it really necessary to close the door?” I didn’t understand what on earth could happen to me if I saw Malfoy brushing his teeth.

“Okay. Move it,” he said and pushed me with his shoulder.

“Hey,” I protested, taking the toothbrush out of my mouth.

“You shouldn’t speak with your mouth full, Potter. Even if it’s full of toothpaste,” he couldn’t help smiling. I caught my reflexion in the mirror and snorted: there was toothpaste all over my chin. Point taken.

We washed up in silence, glancing at each other from time to time. Yesterday I understood several things. Firstly, I was surprised to discover that there was nothing left of the school hatred I used to have for Malfoy. One fight was more than enough to blow off the steam and stop the useless picking on each other. Secondly, Malfoy has changed a lot in the three years that we spent apart, and it wasn’t just about the looks. The important thing was that he seemed to have grown up: the impeccably respectful, even though a bit ironic tone at work was a perfect illustration of it. The fact that he was good at his job was another thing I was surprised to discover.

Malfoy had dropped the snobby attitude that used to piss me off so much. I came to the conclusion that he didn’t hate me anymore either, and the bickering was more of a habit than the reflection of what he really thought. Well, and I didn’t mind the bickering – it was fun, if you ask me.

Downstairs, in the kitchen, Malfoy put the coffee pot on the stove.

“Make some for me too,” I asked him.

“Why should I?” Malfoy lifted and eyebrow and gave me a highly ironic look, which made me feel stupid.

“I can’t, I’m about to make eggs,” I tried to explain.

Malfoy continued to look at me.

“Malfoy, _please_ ,” I sighed. Is it that difficult to boil two cups of water instead of one?!

“Your Gryffindor strategies don’t work on me,” he answered and crossed his arms on his chest.

“If you make me some coffee, I’ll make enough eggs for both of us. Will that do?” I inquired sarcastically.

“Fine by me,” Malfoy looked back at the stove and hid a smile.

I laughed out loud. Too proud to ask directly, huh? Malfoy added some water in the coffee pot, trying to ignore the fact that I was openly making fun of him, but failed – I could perfectly see that the skin on the back of his neck turned pink.

I finished cooking, and we started eating. Malfoy was sitting in front of me, sipping coffee from his cup, and I once again noticed the Dark Mark on his left forearm. I have seen it multiple times in the past few days and finally got used to it being an integral part of his image.

The Mark made me think of work.

“Malfoy, have you already spoken to Mann?” I asked.

“No, didn’t have the time. What about you?”

“I am going to see him today.”

Malfoy nodded and got up.

“I am seeing him before lunch. Do me a favour and speak to him later, will you?” he said.

“Okay,” I shrugged and stood up too. It was time to get going.

We went upstairs to change. I hesitated for a second before asking, “Are you walking to the Ministry?”

Malfoy froze in the doorway of his room.

“Yes.”

“Mind if I wait for you?”

“I can’t think of a way to stop you,” he answered indifferently and disappeared behind the door.

I chuckled as I watched the door close. There was one thing that hasn’t changed about Malfoy: he didn’t let anybody know what he really thought. I could plainly see that he liked my company. It was quite obvious, actually: to start with, he rented me a room instead of brushing me off, and yesterday he spent almost two hours talking to me, and I could swear that he’d enjoyed our semi-official altercations as much as I had.

Now that the pressing issues, such as getting along with my new flatmate, were gone, for the first time since I settled down here I asked myself what I was going to tell Ron and Hermione. I was surely not going to tell them I was living with Malfoy – this would require a lot of explanations which would all end up sounding fake. Ron and I usually had a beer every weekend; I guess I could simply tell him that I rented a place in Muggle London, without going into the details. I doubted I would stay here for another month, so I wouldn’t need to stick to this half-truth for too long.

I tucked my shirt in my pants, put my watch on, tried to comb my hair and went downstairs. Malfoy arrived in a minute or so.

“I didn’t think you would actually wait,” he said, and I wondered if he was embarrassed by the situation.

“I said I would. Let’s go.”

“Always keep your word, huh?” he inquired sarcastically as we stepped outside.

“I never tell lies, let’s put it that way.”

I glanced at him, thinking that referring to Umbridge would be enough to contain Malfoy’s urge to bicker. But instead, I heard him chuckle.

“Some old-fashioned Gryffindor hypocrisy. It reminds me of the good old days,” he gave me yet another condescending look.

“Hypocrisy?” I squinted suspiciously. Was he about to pick a fight?

“Yes. Everybody lies, Potter, I don’t think you are _that_ special.”

“Well, I don’t,” I replied firmly.

Malfoy smiled and looked down at the pavement.

“So you are telling me that Weasley and Granger know you’re living with me?”

“What?”

This took me by surprise – I almost tripped over my own feet.

“I am saying,” Malfoy explained, “that if you don’t lie, you must have told them by now where you’re staying. And not mentioning me in the story would be… well, maybe not an outright lie, but not the truth either.”

And he stared at me, most definitely enjoying the confused expression on my face.

“Um,” I drawled, trying to figure out a way to prove him wrong, “They know I’ve rented a place in Muggle London.”

“You are dodging the answer.”

“Why should I tell them that I’m staying at your place? They wouldn’t care.”

My response seemed to amuse him even more.

“Are you telling me _Weasley_ wouldn’t care? I don’t buy it, Potter, sorry.”

It was uncomfortable to realise that Malfoy was right. Since Umbridge and her evil quill, telling the truth no matter what has been one of my principles, so Malfoy pointing out an obvious lie was unsettling.

“I guess you have a point,” I finally admitted.

“I hope this wasn’t too painful,” Malfoy smirked. “Is your pride okay?”

“Oh, fuck off!” I snapped, but ended up letting out a laugh. The bastard did understand me a little too well.

Malfoy smiled with the corner of his lips.

“What about Alan Mann?” I changed the subject. “You said the other day that he was having a difficult time, but how do you know that, since you haven’t seen him yet?”

“I didn’t say he was having a difficult time,” Malfoy said cautiously. “I said he had his reasons to steal.”

“What reasons?” I was genuinely curious.

“Firstly, why would I tell you that? You’re the Auror, I’m the public defender, I really don’t see why I should be sharing such things with you.” Malfoy glanced at me as if I was stupid – again. “Secondly, I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him yet.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said. I mean, you agree with me that he doesn’t have it in him to be a thief, don’t you?”

I nodded. I did agree with that, that’s why I was so curious to find out why he stole that bag.

“I just assumed that his life is a mess right now. I’m sure he’ll confirm this,” Malfoy shrugged.

“It would be stupid of him not to take such an obvious defence,” I argued.

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“And that is exactly why I’m not telling you anything.”

“I’ll find out anyway!”

“We’ll see, we’ll see.”

We continued walking in silence for some time. I spent several minutes thinking about why Malfoy had chosen to become a public defender. Law was never one of his concerns, as far as I knew; maybe he thought that he could use these skills one day to defend himself? I glanced at him – he was walking by my side, hands in his pockets, and looked calm and satisfied. It didn’t seem like he had to defend himself. Nah, I must be missing something.

We were approaching the Ministry stairs when Malfoy noticed Parkinson down the street. She was reading the morning _Prophet_ , so she hasn’t seen us yet.

“See you, Potter,” Malfoy muttered and ran up the stairs. He didn’t want her to see us together – I could understand that. Had I spotted Neville or Dean, I might have done the same thing.

I arrived at the office and was immediately buried under the paperwork necessary to prepare for the hearing. Mann’s trial was planned for tomorrow, as well as the other “easy” cases, as Harper called them.

By three o’clock I was so fed up with reports and series of questions, that Harper’s suggestion to go speak to Alan Mann felt like a liberation. I hadn’t thought of the paperwork when I applied for the job at the investigation department. I hope I’ll get used to it.

Alan Mann looked pale and scared. I wasn’t there to add to his fears: frankly, I was hoping he would tell me something that I could use in his favour. Unfortunately – and I was sure those were Malfoy’s instructions – Alan answered that he had already told everything to the public defender. Well, I wasn’t surprised: any good public defender would have given such advice.

Walking back to the office, I wondered if it was weird to be so surprised by the fact that Malfoy turned out to be a decent public defender. I suppose I was used to him being an arse to everyone who was weaker than himself, and seeing him from a different perspective wasn’t something I was prepared for.

Either way, as Malfoy put it, this was none of my business.

On my way back home, I saw Melissa chatting with some colleagues in a café. I smiled at her and she smiled back, but I didn’t stop to say hello: groups of girls still scared the shit out of me. I will never forget the day when I accidentally overheard Hermione, Ginny and Luna discussing some guy who was hitting on Hannah Abbot. With all due respect, girls can be mean, so I decided that I could always talk to Melissa later.

I came back home, opened to heavy door with my key and went into the living room. Malfoy was already there, lying on the sofa, reading something.

“Hi,” I said.

“Mhm,” he didn’t even look up.

I shrugged and went upstairs: I still had to prepare my speech for the hearing. I changed into my old but comfortable jeans and t-shirt and sat down on the bed with the rolls of parchment. But the bed was too soft, and within five minutes I understood that I was unable to concentrate. I hesitated for some time, then grabbed my notes and went downstairs. Malfoy eyed me as I sat down in the armchair, but didn’t say anything.

Several hours passed by. Finally, I put my notes aside. My stomach was empty, and I figured it was time for dinner.

“We should eat,” I voiced my decision.

Malfoy looked at me, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t stare at me, better tell me if we have something edible.”

“You can look in the fridge. I’m sure you can handle it,” Malfoy responded and went back to reading.

I sighed and dragged myself to the kitchen. Of course, the fridge was empty, except from some eggs and a bottle of milk. I should have guessed, though. I sighed again and went through the freezer where I found some frozen vegetables. I took out a pan and was about to start cooking – living with the Dursleys wasn’t that useless, after all – when I heard a muffled laugh behind my back.

“You really are a Muggle,” Malfoy said, contemplating my efforts. “Are you going to cook?”

“Unless you have another option, yes.”

“Of course I have. Get out of here for a minute, will you?”

I gave him a suspicious look, but went back into the living room.

“Tinky,” I heard Malfoy say, and a crack of Apparition followed – he must have summoned a house elf. “Bring me dinner, please. Oh, and make it a big dish, I’m hungry.”

“Yes, Master,” the house elf replied, disappeared and came back almost at once.

“Thank you, Tinky, you may go,” Malfoy said.

The elf Disapparated, and I went back into the kitchen. A large round tray full of food was waiting on the table.

“That’s it, Potter. Dinner’s served.”

“I thought you were independent,” I replied with a chuckle.

“I am. It’s been five days since you moved in, and this is the first time I’m calling an elf.”

“True,” I conceded. I was in no mood to bicker: the food smelt great, and my stomach rumbled in anticipation.

We sat down and started eating, and I couldn’t help but think that living with Malfoy wasn’t too bad after all.


End file.
